In a moment she’s returned and is using a towel to wipe the excess lather from his face. When she’s done, she takes his chin between her index finger and thumb, and leans close enough that her nose brushes his cheek. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent. ‘You smell like him now. It makes me dislike you less, Mr. Blume. I should thank you for the opportunity to use his things again, I used to enjoy giving him a shave.’ She leans back and takes one of his hands, drawing him forward in the chair and then to his feet. There’s a bit of escaped shaving lather on the collar of his shirt. ‘You are a bit taller than he was, I think. No muscle on you, though. He was built like a stallion.’ Her fingers deftly unknot his tie, and she draws it out of his shirt, folding it at setting it on the table. Next she tugs the tails of his shirt out from there they are tucked in his pants. ‘You are… pretty, in a way he was not. Lovely features.’ She begins unbuttoning his shirt at the collar,. I just kept pushing down on my penis as it got stiff and stiffer. Dang, I had an awful lot to get used to with this new and very strange job development and my penis softly ejaculating felt so good.I noted all my former attempts at drawing female anatomy didn’t come close to Lilly’s form which was so much more compelling moving along, fluid, real life. I wondered if I could draw her now.I remembered in high school the library possessed one book, one book only, that featured a tiny photograph of a native African woman, bare breasted. Boys would sneak into the library and wait to be unnoticed, slink down to the lower shelf that stored the book of female mystery. The topic regarding the book was talk outside the school and it took brave plans to get access to the photo without getting caught. Such was life-parochial.I was just babbling to myself when suddenly a memory of my very first masturbation popped up in my mind out of nowhere. I’d totally forgotten probably through guilt. I.
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